


The Definition of An Idiot

by TheTimelessChild0



Series: Omovember 2020 [19]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Drunkenness, Omovember 2020, Piss, Star Trek References, Star Wars References, Urination, World Toilet Day, matt and tom, omovember 19, weird/confusing toilet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27623027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/TheTimelessChild0
Summary: see: Thomas Scott
Series: Omovember 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987816
Comments: 5
Kudos: 2





	The Definition of An Idiot

_ God. Whose brilliant idea was it to go to Glastonbury in June? _ It was loud, muddy, smelly...and no, the smell was not from the mud, regretfully. And worst of all, he was busting for the toilet. It came with sobering up. The liquid didn’t evaporate; it just moved.

“Okay, listen up laddies; I have  got to find a toilet. Like  _ right now _ ,” he emphasised.

“I thought you already went. Every step we’ve taken ‘s got muddier,” Matt replied in jest.

Paul laughed lightly, trying his best to keep his nausea at bay. Breaking the seal would dilute the sensation, he guessed; but he dared not to risk busting a literal nut.

“Bloody hell! All these flimflamming tents look the same,” Tom griped in frustration, pushing his knees together, bending them slightly. He did a bounce, stretching his head like an ostrich, to no avail.

“Yeah, I’m not sure that’s a real verb,” Paul commented.

“I don’t give a rat’s arse if that’s not a real verb, I’m literally about to piss myself!” he whined.

“Don’t you mean figuratively,” Matt chimed in. 

“NO, I DO NOT FUCKING MEAN FIGURATIVELY! I mean literally, actually, physically, biologically,” Tom recited, pinching his nose to keep his heart rate down. A quicker pulse only meant a more rapidly filling bladder, and he definitely did not want  _ that _ at that point.

“You know what, piss off, I’m gonna go take a piss,” he proclaimed.

“Where?” Gray giggled.

“Somewhere...over the rainbow. Over there,” Tom pointed ahead at an arbitrary angle, walking away steadfast in his resolve.

* * *

He found a decrepit lavatory, with what was hopefully mud prints on the floor. It consisted of two steel troughs. One made up a row of urinals, the other a row of sinks. Seeing the one near the stalls were further from the door, he made a brisk calculation that equalled people were meant to pee there.

His brain was already flowing over with urine, or thoughts of urine, the invention of toilets, Tycho Brahe...and his sphincter burning. He ran to the rim, hoisted his flagpole over it, and let it flow.

“ _ Christ _ , that feels good!” he muttered. 

“Blimey. There goes the embankment,” he couldn’t help but laugh as he shook off sighing.

Once he was decent again, he turned the knob that was seemingly designed to flush. Only to have a straight line of water disperse the urine along the rectangular bowl.

“Huh. That’s weird,” 

Tom walked over to the other steel installation, pressing a protruding button.

It shot out a similar stream, of comparable intensity...only sideways. And the hole that took the water away was curved, and not at all like the drain of a shower...unlike the other.

The direction of the water alone was...illuminating. It made it perfectly clear that he had urinated in the washbasin.

The distance between him and the stalls allowed for a swift exit before anyone else saw him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“I’m bored. What do you say we get out of here, hit the pub, watch EastEnders, maybe there’s an Arsenal match on,” he rambled once he caught up with his friends.

“Are you okay?” Matt wisely asked.

“Oh yeah, tip-top, totally fine. Just...thought we could head home, sometime in the next 30 seconds,” Tom looked behind him.

“Why?” Paul wanted to know.

“Doesn’t matter. Let’s go. Allons-y,” he announced slowly walking forward.

“Hey, before we go, do you remember where the loo was?” Matt stepped in place, showing a need of his own.

“Em...think it was somewhere over there?...” Tom fibbed.

  
“I thought you pointed that way before,” Paul corrected him.

“Did I? Right, well it doesn’t matter, it’s out of order anyway,” he lied again.

“So...where did  _ you _ go then?” Matt smiled in confusion.

“That’s not important, you can just go on the grass right here, if it’s an emergency,” Tom suggested.

“Tom. This is literally the most important thing in the history of important things! Where did you pee?!” Gray demanded, raising his voice. Paul keeled over laughing.

“Well, you know that time in Estonia, you pissed on that pile of logs?” he brought up randomly.

“Yeah...”

“The definition of a ‘toilet’ is subjective. In Roman times, you sat down, whether you were a man or a woman. In Shakespeare’s time, it was a chamber pot if you were inside, or if you were outside, just pointing your cock somewhere and hope you don’t pee on a priest,” 

“Or a prince,” Paul mentioned.

“Tom, this isn’t one of your internet history lessons. You’re being evasive,” Matt groaned.

“Wait. Do you have any hand sanitiser?” Paul suddenly asked.

“No. I should’ve brought some, but I forgot,” Tom replied.

“That’s cool...can I see your hands for a second?” he requested.

“Ok...”

“Yeah, just lift them up, like that, great,” he led his sesquipedalian friend along. Then he sniffed both hands. “And...I was right,”

“Right about what?” Matt asked.

  
“Smell his hands,” Paul suggested.

Gray did. There was no smell of wee.

“How did you wash your hands?” Matt confronted Tom.

“Sink wasn’t broken,” Tom explained plainly.

“Then...why didn’t you say so? I can piss in the sink, no one’s gonna know,”

“They will if it happens twice in ten minutes,” he noted as he looked away, clearing his throat.

Both his friends erupted in laughter.

“You pissed in the sink?!” Matt exclaimed, pretending to be scandalised.

“You were about to,” Tom defended himself poorly.

“Well, yeah, ‘cause I’m a drunk idiot, you’re a sober genius,” Gray complimented.

“ _ Nearly _ sober,” Scott adjusted. “But, still drunk enough to mix up the sinks and the urinals, apparently,”

“Oh, was it those steel ones where they’re both the same height?” Paul wondered.

  
“Yes!” Tom displayed his annoyance.

There was a silence. Then Matt laughed.

“Tom pissed in the sink!”

“Shut up!”

“Yes, Mr Spock,” Matt stood at attention, saluting with a failed Klingon hand gesture.

Now it was Tom’s turn to laugh. Which was amplified when the man simply spun his head around for passersby, whipped out his willy and unceremoniously pissed in the grass right behind them.

“You know what,  _ I’m _ the idiot. The toilet was right there,” he remarked. 

Matt’s laughter made his pee shoot out faster and in gushes as he caught his breath.

Paul proceeded to make lightsaber noises near his groin. Tom repeated the gag.

Everybody laughed.

The End.


End file.
